


The Piece Of You I Carry With Me

by ThirstyForEvans (Bibliophilic_Wit)



Series: Recognising You [4]
Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/M, Hairdresser!Reader, Hairstylist!Reader, Soulmate AU, in which you have a band of your soulmate's haircolour on your wrist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 20:50:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18858868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bibliophilic_Wit/pseuds/ThirstyForEvans
Summary: AU in which you have a stripe of your soulmate's haircolour on your wrist and if they dye it your stripe changes colour......and you just got hired as a hairstylist on the new Avengers set.





	The Piece Of You I Carry With Me

The thin band of skin at the base of your left wrist was fairly boring, and you’d often wondered if your soulmate cringed at the flurry of activity you must be causing on their skin. But then again, once there had been a short period of beautiful, deep blue on your wrist after you had dyed your hair for the first time at seventeen. It had only lasted two weeks but you liked to think it was your soulmate calling out that they were looking for you too. Nonetheless, you rotated through the rainbow seamlessly, your work as a hairstylist only enabling your passion. Through proper treatment and frequent trimming, you kept your hair happy and healthy as you and your fellow artists blended colours into the tips and roots of your hair. Your passion for colour was rooted in the passion you felt for life itself and to a no-so-lesser-extent, true love. It seemed so easy when you were little, you just had to make your hair an absurd colour so that your soulmate would know it was you immediately.

 

These days the colour on your wrist most often shifted between a naturally deep, ruddy brown and an honestly questionable golden-yellow that you winced at whenever it appeared _just slightly off_. After deciding you needed a big change along with your new job, you let Anna chop off most of your hair into feathery waves falling around your ears. As you had sat patiently, your eyes skimmed the worn photo-album, catching on that deep blue wrapped around your wrist at seventeen, you traced the edge of the current colour- their natural hair colour, an underappreciated complex of layered browns and reds. It had been a while since you’d dyed you hair one colour and since you seemed to lack direction, you asked Anna to mix up a medley of mid-tone blues in your hair. Feeling invigorated for your new task, you went to bed early so you would be on time for the early start at the Marvel set in Atlanta.

 

Jennifer, Mr Downey’s personal hair-stylist, introduced you to the rest of the hair and makeup crew, many of whom you knew from prior jobs although most of them had worked with Marvel before. It seemed that almost everybody with a distinctive look had their own personal hair or makeup artist, with the exception of Mr Cumberbatch- as Daniel did both for him. Everyone was willing to help out with the extras and secondary cast members as needed when they weren’t busy, but as the secondary head of the hair department, it would be your job to style Mr Evans and Ms Johansson’s hair along with any other characters that fell through the cracks. The first step was to dye both of their hair according to the most recent swatches left by the previous hair stylist and evolve the style slightly with minimal changes to the colour, although a note on Steve Rogers’ hairstyle provided for the fact that his hair did seem to change fairly often anyway. The first thing Jennifer insisted on was that the entire cast, with the exception of the few older actors, hated to be addressed with honorifics.

 

As you walked through the set, familiarising yourself with the layout before looping back to your temporary salon set-up, you realised Jennifer was correct. Even the Chrises seemed to prefer just their last names and everyone else seemed to be on a first name basis with the crew they already knew. As you passed the third cast member asking the crew to call them by their first name you grinned and shook your head at the change of pace from your usual films. The set seemed to buzz with energy, but rather than stifling and pressured, it seemed to simply be warm and happy. Setting up in your area, you mixed a base of bleach-blonde colour (sans bleach, of course) and snapped on the gloves you would be wearing for most of the day. To be courteous you asked, “How are you today Ms Johansson?”

“Oh, you’re so sweet, please call me Scarlett.” She smiled, and you reciprocated as she told you of her delayed flight to Atlanta. As you prepared and cut her hair using the guidelines provided, you adjusted for her new hair texture along with the darker tone easily. The end result seemed good, but you gave her instructions on when she could wash it and that you could adjust it as needed tomorrow when you added the lowlights.

 

Next was Evans, who immediately introduced himself as Chris and asked you how your day had been so far. He chatted to you easily, showing a fair amount of awareness for the fact that Steve’s hair had too often turned yellow or copper instead of the golden colour it was originally supposed to be. Apparently some hairstylists had a bit of a problem counteracting the red undertone of his hair.

“Well, this is actually my favourite hair colour to work with- I’m very familiar.” You smiled reassuringly, and he waved your concern off.

“Steve Rogers is Steve Rogers, whether his hair is yellow, copper or gold…” He laughed and you tilted your head in acknowledgement, getting to work on lightening his hair.

“I wanted to be a hairdresser for a while when I was little,” He said eventually and you made a noise to indicate your curiosity, “I thought it would help me meet my soulmate quicker…” He laughed and you smiled softly at him.

“Or perhaps not.” You laughed self-deprecatingly, “I’ve been doing this for 12 years, so it’s good you didn’t have your hopes set on that.”

 

He chuckled and nodded in agreement before you remembered a question you had thought of last night, “So, I can’t think I’ve ever seen Steve Roger’s soulmark, is that on purpose?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s why they make him wear the gloves, actually.” Chris smirked and you giggled, before reclining him back so you could wash out his hair.

As you applied the base colour, he asked, “Would it be completely inappropriate if I asked you about your soulmate?”

“No, I don’t mind.” You said easily, glancing at his wrist reflexively- it was covered by the watch he was wearing, “I mean, I don’t know them so I’m not sure how much I can tell but ask away.”

“Well, I suppose it’s more about your thought on soulmates in general than your soulmate specifically.” He amended with an apologetic look.

 

“Oh, sure.” You smiled, “I’ve been happy without my soulmate, but I am curious, and I do believe in the whole true love thing. Not that everybody needs it, nobody _needs_ it, but I think some people- myself included- do better with another half, and I do believe that my other half will be the person best-suited to loving me unconditionally and allowing me to love them.”

“That’s beautiful.” Chris smiled and I blushed slightly, “I agree with what you’re saying, although I guess I didn’t once upon a time. My parents had each others bands and they were so sure they didn’t do the test or anything. Neither of them had any cause to dye their hair- for the test or anything else- until 21 years later; my mum dyed her hair pink in support of breast cancer and my dad’s colour didn’t change.”

It was silent for a while as you contemplated his admission, “That must have been really hard on you all.” You said sympathetically, and he nodded.

“Thanks for listening, it really was, but now I think I’m actually ready to find my soulmate. Should be easy enough, anyway.”

 

“How so?” You asked with slight amusement.

“Oh, she’s always got it some crazy combination of colours. I’ll spot her eventually.”

“You’re not exactly in the right business for crazy to stand out.” You teased, “half of the department’s got unnatural hair colours and none of them have their natural hair colour anymore.”

He chuckled, “True. At least seven of you’ve got blue hair right now.”

“Yep. Blue was more popular than I would have thought.” You said, swishing your hair slightly. You spent the rest of your time talking about both of your childhood fantasies of finding your soulmate and how easy your younger selves had believed it would be. Did it cross your mind that Chris’ talk of blue hair meant his soulmate had blue? Sure, but then he could have just used your hair colour as an example in the first place. It was hardly grounds for going gaga… but the newly lightened strip of colour around your wrist surely was grounds for at least a discussion. After all, it could just be a coincidence, you’d thought as you rubbed your thumb along the edge of it at the end of your work day.

 

You made your way to Chris’ trailer with a little help from the crew and knocked on the door with slight trepidation. Shuffling followed by footsteps echoed through the raised floor and you nervously bit your lip as he swung the door open slightly, furrowed brow relaxing as he spotted you with a smile and a warm hello.

“Sorry to bother you, is this an okay time?”

“Um, no, you’re not bothering me. I was just reading lines for a scene tonight.”

“Oh! You’re already shooting?”

“No, no, it’s just rehearsal for a scene with Scarlett since she got in late. I just have to be there in about…” He glanced at his watch, “fifteen minutes.”

“Sorry. You should get prepped then, I can talk to you tomorrow when you come in for your hair.” You gestured apologetically and he shrugged it off.

“No, really, it’s fine. I know my lines. Besides, it’s just rehearsal.” He smiled reassuringly and you nodded, feeling slightly awkward. “What did you want to talk about?” He asked after a pause.

“Do you have plans tonight? I mean later tonight, for like... dinner or something?”

“No, I was just gonna-“ he paused looking slightly lost before shrugging, “-haven’t figured it out yet, actually.” He chuckled and you smiled softly.

 

“Could I take you out?” You asked and he frowned slightly, seemingly caught aback before you backtracked. “Actually. Just…” You reeled for a sane thought. “My hair was blonde with pink tips yesterday.” You gulped slightly, your tone almost questioningly.

Chris blinked a few times, his expression unreadable before he glanced at his wrist in a subconscious move. “Oh.” He breathed out his realisation.

“Uh. Yes. Yes, you can take me out for dinner tonight.” He nodded, a slow smile spreading across his face. He scrambled around for his phone and you nodded out of your shock to grab your own. Quickly inputting his number after he grimaced at trying to remember how to put a new contact in, you smiled and sent him a text. His smile was disarming and beaming as his phone buzzed and you couldn’t help but reciprocate as he waved you off into the distance. “I’ll text you when I’m done!” He shouted and your smile spread impossibly wider.

“I’ll be waiting!” You responded easily, driving off to the nearest supermarket in search of something to make a decent bolognese with.

 

Having a soulmate discussion wasn’t something you figured would fly easily over takeout or in a 247 diner, and this was something almost everybody liked. After grabbing a loaf of cheesy garlic bread from the freezer section and running back for normal garlic bread, just in case, grabbing three pints of ice cream along the way, you made your way to the alcoholic aisle to pick out a six pack of Sam Adams, a safe bet for the Boston-bred, and a red that google said paired well with italian food, you were set. Your bolognese was just becoming thick when your phone buzzed with a message. Chris was done and just packing up his last stuff in the trailer, a short rambling of sentences followed, apologising for not clearing up when or where or what. A smile tugged at your lips as you simply sent him your address before boiling water for the pasta and placing the bread in the oven. His text quipped something about sending him to an empty warehouse and killing him along with an ETA. Your text back made promises to refrain from serial killer-y and included that he could let himself in when he was here. Oh, and mind the dog- he’s friendly but loud.

 

His text back was simply a thumbs-up so you got back to the business of finding bowls and straining pasta. Chris appeared just as you added the pasta to the bolognese, “Hey, it’s just me!” He shouted in, laughing at your excitable furbaby as he barked happily at him. You whistled for Bailey and then shouted back, “I’m in the kitchen, just follow the hallway! Or Bailey, if you can keep up!” You laughed as the golden blur of fur rounded the corner seeking treats. You supplied a few bites of cheese to your doggo as Chris rounded the corner, a smile on his face and his posture relaxed. “Please, take a seat,” You gestured to the collection of barstools across from the counter.

“Thank you.” He said happily, draping his jacket over the backrest before sitting down. “I realise this isn’t exactly the norm, and I don’t want to be remiss, but would you mind if we just got to the third date stuff now?” He asked, clearly referencing small talk but your mind still caught on the more inappropriate idea as your cheeks flushed and a chuckle burst forth from your lips. Chris’ protestations were lost as you laughed your tension away, finally finding him joining you in slight embarrassment.

 

“I’m sorry,” You laughed, “I know what you mean I just-” A small sigh escaped your lips as you shook your head before actually answering the question. “No, no I don’t mind if we skip the small talk.”

“Okay,” He breathed, “Do you think we’re soulmates?” Your stomach lurched at the thought and you nodded.

“Your wrist?” You asked, and he obliging slipped off his wallet to reveal the deep blue of your hair. “Mine was your normal ruddy brown this morning, and when I took my gloves off tonight it was bleached.” You revealed, holding your wrist up to his. His thumb brushed over yours and a soft sigh escaped your lips.

“Well, mine was blonde and pink until yesterday. I took my watch off it was blue.”

Chris smiled before looking up into your eyes curiously, “Is it because-”

“My soulmate: you…” You beamed at the thought, “Yeah. I saw the picture last night in my yearbook.”

“Oh, good. That was my intention, my pink wrist is on full display for my yearbook too.”

 

You laughed. “I hadn't even thought of that, how sly of you,” You grinned and he shrugged as a timer echoed through the kitchen.

“It smells delicious.”

“Thanks, I figured a home cooked meal might just be the right background to this kind of talk.” He nodded in agreement and you served up the food right on the counter, simply making sure you both had access to everything before motioning for him to help himself first as you strode to the fridge. “Sam Adams or red wine?”

“I’ll take the red wine now and the Adams later, if that’s okay.”

“Of course, I had hoped Boston-bred would like Boston-made…” He grinned at your quip as you set two wine glasses out before sitting on the barstool next to him. You both inadvertently swiveled your chairs to face each other slightly as he poured the wine and you put a helping of pasta in your bowl.

“Okay,” You said after taking a sip from the wine, “So, give me a brief biography of Chris Evans.”

 

He laughed and you both traded stories detailing basic knowledge of your families, childhoods, close friends and education before giving a quick recount of career highlights.

As you poured yourself a second glass of wine and encouraged him to help himself to a beer, you remembered the ice cream in the fridge and requested he bring it.

“Ooh, cookies and cream…” He said, excited. “That okay with you?” You nodded happily and moved to find spoons as he protested that he was already up so you directed him to the cutlery drawer as you pondered what to ask next.

“So, I guess the big one’s up. However we phrase it, the point is what do you want from life and what do you want from a relationship right now. Do you want a relationship right now and, I mean, are you in a relationship right now?”

 

“No. I’d decided I would wait for my soulmate after my last break-up. That was two years ago now and we’re still friends.” Chris said, offering up the ice cream before continuing, “I guess as for what I want out of life; I want to keep doing what I’m doing, more or less. Eventually, I’d like to direct and I want a family. I would give up acting for a family, if that’s what it would take, because that’s all I really want in the end. Wife and kids. Someone to love.” He said frankly and you smiled. “As for right now? I’d really like to spend as much time with my soulmate as possible.”

You smiled and finished the ice cream as frank conversation flowed between the two of you. As he scraped the last of the ice cream out of the container, you inched closer to him and took his jaw in your hand, running your thumb across the beard you would have to shave tomorrow. He looked at you through his long lashes, placing his hand on your knee as his other hand came up to cup your hand on his jaw.

 

He dragged your fingers away and placed a soft kiss on your wrist that made your breath hitch, and you breathed deeply, reluctantly parting from him as he frowned. “I’m uh- just- wait here, please, I just need to find something real quick.”

Traditionally, as a precursor to a proposal of marriage or around six months of dating, couples would do the test- if they thought they were with their soulmate, that is. The test was simple and though specialised kits were sold, it all boiled down to a potent lightening product that could be applied to a thin lock of hair making it effectively white. The change would either be echoed on your wrist within seconds...or not. The latter usually broke couples up, although you couldn’t admit to being in that position yourself- your hair changed too often that it happened with such purpose and ceremony. There was no real need to do the test with Chris, and it was basically unheard of to do so mere hours after meeting, but considering what he told you about his parents, it would leave no room for any doubt.

 

As you finally grabbed hold of the bottle of lightener, you stretched out and tried not to run back to room where you’d left Chris about 2 seconds from kissing you senseless. His fingers trapping along his thigh was the only sign of his uncertainty and as you held up the bottle, he looked pleased although surprised. “It’s an option. If you want it.” You said in lieu of explanation and he bit his lip as you placed the container between you as you took your seat. He nodded and reached for it, pausing as his hands clasped around it.

“It’s not because I don’t trust you.”

“I know.” You said with a smile, completely sincere and he seemed to sag in slight relief. You quickly pulled on the gloves you had brought with and batted his hands away, squirting the white product onto your fingertips before working it into one of the longer strands that comprised his slight fringe. Not daring to take a peek at your own wrist beneath the glove, you quickly applied more product to your fingertips and worked it through a small strand of hair that fell from your temple.

 

When the strand slipped from your hands, you peeled off the gloves and looked at Chris to find him staring at your wrist. Burning with curiosity and nervousness, you fixed your eyes on Chris’ wrist and attempted to count the ticking seconds that felt like minutes unsuccessfully. As you worried your bottom lip, the mark on Chris’ arm shifted and you held your breath subconsciously as a thin strip of desaturation became apparent among the chorus of blue. When you looked back up at Chris he was already staring at your face and you inhaled sharply at the piercing look he gave you. Needing confirmation you glanced down to your wrist to see a whitened strip of hair slithering through, and then Chris was holding you tight to his chest as wetness became apparent on your cheeks.

Pulling apart slightly in confusion and to wipe it off, you realised you were crying and so was he. He opened his mouth looking apologetic, but nothing came out, instead you grabbed his hand and led him to your bedroom wordlessly.


End file.
